Searching for Happiness
by Phosphorescent
Summary: In which Booth and Brennan search for happiness… one dance at a time. *Update: "You can't stop listening to Foreigner just because some jerk put a bomb in your refrigerator."*
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bones; never have, probably never will._

_A/N: The beginnings of this fic have been sitting around on my hard drive for quite a while (i.e. well over a year). I'd been waiting to post the first chapter until I was happier with it (it's the weakest of the bunch, in my opinion), but eventually realized that that meant that the story would never get posted. Also, a reminder: I may update multi-chaptered fics_ very _slowly, but I don't abandon them. This fic will be finished eventually. Having said that, this fic may or may not go past mid-Season Five. I have to admit that I stopped watching Bones on a regular basis around mid-Season Six due to utter frustration and depression with the way that the story (and characters) were developing. I've been reading episode reviews to keep up with general events (I do still care about the characters, after all) – and I watch the occasional episode – but my knowledge of Bones post-Season Six is a tad patchy. So... we'll see. A lot depends on how much "free" time Real Life grants me.  
_

* * *

_Booth: "Want to know what I wished for?"_

_Brennan: "No, it doesn't matter. Completely irrelevant."_

_Booth: "I wished... I wished that you could find happiness."_

_Brennan: "I don't know what that means."_

_Booth: "Happiness. Love, laughter, friendship, purpose... and a dance."_

– Seeley Booth, 5x20: "The Witch in the Wardrobe"

* * *

**I. Aurora Bar (1x04)**

The first time they dance together is at a bar in Aurora. When they talk to Angela that night, she suggests (orders) that they blow off a little steam by having "fun and a drink." And, well, they _could_ use a break. What could it hurt?

Noise, neon lights, and cigarette smoke engulf them as they enter the crowded bar. While Bones heads towards the bar proper, Booth heads to the restroom. By the time he makes his way over to get a drink, Bones is already on the dance floor with a blonde, muscular man. (And just who is that guy, anyway?)

Doing his best to ignore a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, Booth pulls off his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and pops a few buttons on his shirt. This isn't really a suit-scene. Besides, it's hot in here.

He distantly notes the appreciative female glances thrown his way as he orders a cold beer and settles onto a stool. Even if he was looking for something (which he isn't, as he has a girlfriend, thank you very much), he wouldn't act on the looks he's getting. For one thing, they're all potential suspects in this investigation. For another, the pickings are pretty slim; the hottest woman in the place right now is undoubtedly Bones, followed by Dr. Denise Randall, the veterinarian who performed the autopsy (sorry, _necropsy_ (though no matter what Bones says, they're the same thing)) on the bear. And _boy_ is she aware of her newly demoted status. The way Dr. Randall is glaring at Bones, Booth is surprised that she doesn't have a hole in her head.

"So, who's the guy?" Booth asks Sheriff Scutter casually, gesturing in the direction of Bones.

"Oh, that's Charlie Harris, the overnight delivery guy," the sheriff says. "He also teaches mountain-climbing and skiing during the tourist seasons."

Booth nods.

The blonde Dr. Randall shoots him a flirtatious look from across the bar and Booth politely raises his mug in her direction before taking a sip. Turning back towards Sheriff Scutter, he asks, "He trustworthy?"

"He's a decent guy," the sheriff says with a shrug. "Why? You think he might have something to do with Adam's death?"

"Just considering all the possibilities," Booth says with a small shrug of his own.

Despite his best efforts, he can't seem to pull his eyes away from Bones and Charlie. He's still watching and trying not to glower when Dr. Andrew Rigby cuts in and steals Bones away.

Good. Maybe the doctor will dance at a more appropriate distance from her.

His hopes are dashed in pretty short order, though, as Rigby quickly gets up close and personal with her. Booth notes that Sheriff Scutter is getting kinda antsy, shifting back and forth on his feet. Then he nods once to himself as though having come to a decision, and begins to make his away closer to the dance floor.

Booth narrowly restrains himself from grimacing visibly. _Seriously_? Yeah, Bones is hot, but do they have to crowd her like… like a pack of dogs slavering over a piece of meat?

He pushes down the strange, roiling feeling in his stomach that he refuses to call jealousy. Bones is a free woman; she can dance with whoever she wants. Besides, he has a girlfriend and even if he didn't – well, Bones is his partner. And she's… she's arrogant and infuriating and – damn it, _why_ exactly does he find those things so attractive on her?

Shit. And now the Sheriff is dancing with her. Why can't they leave her the hell alone? Bones may be a free agent, but that doesn't mean that she's able to look out for herself.

So when he cuts in on Bones' dance with the Sheriff, it's only to save her from the all-too-hungry male population of the small town. (Or at least that's what he tries to tell himself.)

Bones is innocently delighted when he informs her that the guys there aren't interested in her information – they're interested in _her_. And her delight somehow only serves to make her even more attractive.

There's something about the act of dancing that's deeply intimate. And as Booth dances with Bones, he realizes something: Before, he could see this thing (them) possibly going somewhere. Now, he knows that if they gave it a chance, it definitely would.

But he has Tessa and he's happy with her. So it's a moot point. _Really._

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

**II. Brennan's Apartment (1x15)**

The second time they dance together is in her apartment. It's the most uninhibited he's ever seen her. For a short time, her walls are down, and Dr. Temperance Brennan is acting _silly_. Her face is glowing, her eyes are sparkling, and it turns out that she isn't a half bad singer. Not to mention that she has one hell of a high-kick.

It's kinda perfect.

At least it's perfect until he gets blown up. But really, he was already blown away, so he supposes he should have seen something like this coming. After all, Bones has always been literal to a fault.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

**III. Las Vegas (2x08)**

The third time they dance together is in Las Vegas. It's not _them_ dancing, of course, it's Roxanne and Tony, but it's close enough.

Actually, they're _very_ close. Tony and Roxie, that is. His hands are on her hips and her arms are around his neck as they sway back and forth during a slower song. The friction of her body against his is… incredibly distracting. They aren't exactly whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears, however.

_"See that man in the corner?"_

_"Mmhmm…"_

_"He's watching us. Better make this one good, Roxie."_

He dips her and she throws him a glance that's so sultry, he's surprised that nothing's burst into flames.

It's perfect.

It's perfect except for the fact that they are Tony and Roxie, not Booth and Brennan. They have a job to do and they can't afford to get distracted.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

**IV. Christmas Party at the Jeffersonian (between 2x11 & 2x12)**

The fourth time they dance together, it's at the Jeffersonian's annual Christmas party. They're only there due to Angela's wheedling, blackmailing, and downright bullying.

_["Fine, Ange," Bones sighs. "I promise to come so that you do not photocopy your butt again."_

_"Thank you, sweetie," Angela says. "You won't regret it."_

_Bones looks doubtful, and Booth can barely restrain a snort of laughter._

_"And you!" Angela whirls around, poking him in the chest with a finger. "You're coming, or so help me –"_

_"OK, OK, I'll be there!" Booth tells her defensively. He's already given up trying to get out of it; rational excuses (such as not being a Jeffersonian employee) mean nothing to this woman. "Just… cut it out already, would you?"]_

When he cuts in to dance with her, it's because that creep from the Paleontology department is trying to feel her up again, and she has a scowl larger than Texas on her face.

"I don't need protecting, Booth," Bones hisses.

"I know," Booth says, grinning. "But it occurred to me that Handsy Hubert might. You looked like you were about to rip him a good one."

"I don't know what that means."

They're moving together to a particularly cheesy rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Dr. Goodman scolding Hodgins (who (with Zack's assistance) has attempted to spike the eggnog yet again).

It's perfect.

It's perfect until Cam cuts in.

"Dr. Brennan," she says, smiling. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not," Bones says a tad stiffly.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

**V. Book Release (between 2x14 and 2x15)**

The fifth time they dance together is at the release party for her latest book.

The atmosphere is kinda stuffy; lots of hoity-toits here tonight. It's not exactly a crowd he's comfortable moving in, but Bones asked him to come, so here he is. She could use a friend's support tonight, and he's honored that she's willing to accept his.

Booth shifts back and forth, fidgeting with his tie (which feels far too tight). Then he sees her and she looks… wow. He stumbles over his tongue in an attempt to compliment her, and she smiles.

"Hey, where's Sully?" he asks.

"He's talking with a friend that he ran into. Agent… Wilson, I think?" Her face is scrunched, trying to remember.

"Yeah," Booth says. "I know him, good guy."

"Dr. Brennan," a petite, beady-eyed woman in four-inch heels says, striding forcefully towards them, "Why aren't you dancing?"

"Oh no," Bones groans into his ear, warm breath tickling his skin. "It's my publicist's new assistant. She won't leave me alone."

"You trust me, right?" he whispers back.

"Of course," she states confusedly, "but –"

"Then follow my lead."

"This is your party," the woman continues, "People will start wondering if something's… wrong… if you don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

"There is no definitive correlation between dancing and enjoying oneself," Bones says, clearly trying (and failing) to mask her irritation. "Although dancing performs integral functions in numerous societies, some of which involve celebration –"

"– If you need help finding a partner –" the assistant says, talking loudly over her.

"– Bones is dancing the next one with me," Booth cuts in. "Special Agent Seeley Booth at your service, ma'am. I'm her partner."

"Oh," the woman says embarrassedly. "You might have mentioned that you had it covered, Dr. Brennan. I take it that this is 'Andy?'"

"Actually –" Bones begins, but he cuts her off.

"– it was nice chatting, but this lovely lady and I have an appointment on the dance floor."

He grabs her arm and propels her onto the floor. She glares fiercely at him.

"There was no need to manhandle me, Booth," she articulates in crisp irritation.

"Hey, no need to thank me or anything," Booth mutters sarcastically.

"That is correct," Bones says. "Why would I thank you for jerking me off on the dance floor?"

"Uh, I think you meant 'yanking you onto the dance floor'," Booth corrects her. "Which, for the record, I did not do."

"Jerking off, yanking onto, what's the difference?" she asks, exasperated. "You did it to me without asking my permission."

He looks around nervously as her voice rises in volume.

"Keep it down, would you?" he begs.

"I don't understand why you are so skittish," she continues. "Unless…" An enlightened expression breaks across her face. "Is 'jerking off' some form of sexual euphemism?"

He nods. Then, quickly changing the subject, "Besides, you agreed to follow my lead this one time."

"I thought you meant in dancing," she protests, smiling despite herself.

"Well, that too," he says, grinning.

And so they dance.

It's perfect.

It's perfect until Sully finishes his conversation with Wilson, and intercepts them on the dance floor.

"Hey, Tempe, long time no see," he says, grinning casually. "Mind if I cut in?"

Booth tries not to bristle too visibly.

"Nah," he says. "I was ready for a drink, anyways."

So he walks off, leaving a glowing Bones dancing with his (former) friend. He tries to convince himself that he doesn't care when she laughs at one of Sully's comments, that he isn't bothered by the fact that they're practically cheek-to-cheek.

He doesn't quite succeed.

* * *

_Coming soon to a website near you... Chapter Two of "Searching for Happiness": In which Caroline Julian is Caroline Julian, Zack makes a comment that causes Booth to choke on his drink, and B&B share a dance at Hodgins and Angela's wedding-that-wasn't._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I still don't own Bones. _

* * *

**VI. Wedding (2x21)**

The sixth time they dance together is at a wedding.

At least, it's kind of a wedding. Is a wedding still a wedding if no one gets wed?

Heh. It's like a tongue-twister. How much wood can a woodchuck chuck and all that.

Anyway, he and Bones are standing at the altar, stranded by Hodgins and Angela (who've left for reasons unknown) with the instructions to enjoy themselves.

Everyone's staring at them.

And it's a little absurd, to be honest. He's standing in a church full of people next to one of the two women to have turned him down in recent memory. God sure has a strange sense of humor; he's not sure that he appreciates it right now.

"What do we do now?" she asks him as they stand facing the priest.

After a charged pause, "What Hodgins and Angela suggested."

He turns to the pews, and says loudly, "So, uh, I guess the guests of honor have already departed, huh?"

The crowd chuckles.

Smiling as charmingly as he can, he concludes, "Fortunately, they've left us with quite a nice spread. So let's follow their orders and eat, drink, and make merry."

When no one makes a move to exit, he looks back at Bones a tad helplessly. Put him in an official situation, and he's great at making people jump when he says jump. But right now he's a bit out of his depth.

"I think they're still waiting for a wedding, Booth," she whispers loudly. "Which is illogical, considering that Angela and Hodgins are not here. See, this is why –"

He quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

"Not right now, OK, Bones?" he hisses. "You can't diss marriage in God's House."

Her eyes flash furiously as she pries his hand away.

As she opens her mouth to speak, however, a new voice cuts in.

"Alright, lovebirds, cut it out," Caroline Julian's strident tone pronounces. "These good people didn't come here to see you flirt. Everyone, this way to the reception hall."

And with that, she strides out of the church, beginning a mass exodus of its inhabitants.

Bones' cheeks are slightly flushed, and he knows with a dreadful certainty that his are no better. Neither of them are people who embarrass easily, but being scolded (however wrongly) for flirting in front of a churchful of people? That'll do it.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, feeling rather like a fish.

Looking bemused, Bones says, "Well, that was effective. Of course, we are not a couple, but I suppose I can understand how the casual observer might come to that conclusion in these circumstances. Although Caroline should know better, I suspect that she was subconsciously influenced by the cultural expectation that a man and a woman standing in front of a priest must necessarily be romantically involved."

"Whoa, Bones," Booth says, "That sounds an awful lot like psychology."

Bones huffs. "Psychology is an imprecise –"

"– science, yeah, I know."

She nods with satisfaction.

He hesitates for a second, then, "Are you sure you're OK? Y'know, with me arresting your dad?"

Bones bites her lip slightly even as she huffs, "You did your job, Booth. I understand."

"See, you say that, but I'm not sure that you do."

"It was my father's choice," she says. "He's the one who chose to continue a life of crime. He's the one who chose to get caught."

He shrugs in agreement. "Still…"

"You are an honorable man, Booth," she tells him firmly. "You wouldn't be _you_ unless you did what you thought was right. And I know I don't say this very often, but I respect you for that."

The lump in his throat catches him by surprise.

"Thanks, Bones," he says quietly, his eyes glued to hers. "You're pretty amazing too, y'know."

She smiles. "We make a good team."

"Yeah," he agrees. "We do."

They share one of their Looks, one of those interlocked gazes so full of electricity and layered meanings that he's surprised the air doesn't literally crackle.

Then she looks away and, just like that, it's over.

"So, uh, we'd better get to the reception then, huh?" Booth says.

Bones seems to flip some sort of internal switch, and suddenly she's crisp and professional again.

"Yes," she says.

-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-

The reception is held at a place a couple of miles from the church, so they take Booth's car. By the time they get there, everyone has already started eating and dancing as per Hodgins and Angela's orders.

"There you are!" Cam exclaims, converging on the pair, a plate of _hors_ d'œuvres in her hand. "We were wondering if you'd gotten lost."

Booth snorts. "Get lost? You know me better than that, Camille. I've got a compass up here." He taps his head with an index finger for emphasis.

"That's not possible," Bones tells him.

"It's a figure of speech, Dr. Brennan," Cam says patiently.

"Implying that Booth has an excellent sense of direction?" Bones asks. At Booth's nod, she says, "I concur."

"Thanks, Bones," he says, grinning. He hasn't gotten this many compliments from her in a while.

"I'm only stating a fact, Booth," Bones says. "There's no need to thank me. I suspect your time in the military served to augment your spatial skills."

He shrugs. "I was pretty good at reading maps and stuff before I went into the service, but old Sergeant Mattes and his field exercises really whipped my internal compass into shape. My _figurative_ internal compass," he adds, seeing Bones about to protest.

"And… I'm off to get some more wine," Cam says, looking amused. "The rest of the team's sitting over by the big cluster of balloons if you want to join us."

"Sure thing," Booth says, flashing her a smile. "Thanks."

As soon as Cam leaves, he turns to Bones. Rubbing his hands together he says, "So, Bones, whaddaya say we see what the food's like?"

"I am amendable to that," Bones tells him, smiling.

"Good," he says. "'cause my stomach's rumbling."

One thing that can be said for Jack Hodgins is that he's no cheapskate. The buffet is, in his partner's words, "a veritable smörgåsbord".

A large portion of it is fancy stuff that Booth's never seen before, but he's relieved to discover a section where there are things like good old-fashioned steak and mashed potatoes. And the desserts… good God, the desserts.

"Booth, is it really necessary for you to consume three slices of pie?" Bones asks disapprovingly as they take their seats with the other squints.

"Ah, but they're different _types_ of pie," he informs her, grinning.

She rolls her eyes expressively as she picks up a small pastry.

"What's that?" he asks her through a mouthful of potatoes.

"It's a vol-au-vent," she says.

"Vole?" he says in disgust.

"Vol-au-vents do not contain vole," she explains, amused. As she talks, her voice takes on a familiar lecturing tone. "Their name comes from the French 'le vol dans le vent', which means 'flying in the wind'; the phrase is supposed to describe the lightness of the puff pastry. This particular vol-au-vent is filled with mushrooms. It's quite tasty, actually. Would you like to try a bite?"

"Nah," he says, waving a hand in dismissal. "I'm good."

It's unfair how sexy she can make a fungus dish sound.

"Hodgins and Angela certainly didn't skimp on the wine," he says a bit later as he finishes off his glass. "I mean, I'm more of a beer guy, but this stuff is _good_."

Bones looks a tad confused as she says, "I fail to see why you would think that they would 'skimp'. Hodgins is quite wealthy, as is Angela's father; it is only logical that they would provide high-quality refreshments."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between 'high-quality' and '_high_-quality'," he says, grinning. "This is definitely the latter, baby."

"Other than the emphasis that you put on the first portion of your repetition of the phrase, I see no difference between the two," Bones says. "Nevertheless, I am quite impressed with your use of the word 'latter'."

"Don't get used to it," Booth teases her. "I only bring out the big words on special occasions."

Bones rolls her eyes. "I do not think I am in danger of becoming accustomed to an improved vocabulary on your part."

"Should I be offended?" Booth asks the air rhetorically.

Zack Addy suddenly decides that _now_ is the time to join their conversation.

"Dr. Brennan wasn't being derogative," he says. "It is merely fact that some homo sapiens are more intelligent than others."

"Zack is correct," Bones says, backing up her grad student.

Ignoring that topic ('cause he knows it will only end with _everyone_ riled up), he turns to Bones and says, "Hey, do you wanna hit the dance floor?"

"That is illogical," Zack says. "Why would anyone desire to hit a floor?"

"It's a colloquialism, Zack," Bones explains, for once understanding a turn of phrase. "It means that Booth is asking me if I want to dance."

"Oh," Zack says, nodding in comprehension. "Agent Booth is using that phrase as part of a modern-day mating ritual."

Booth chokes on his sip of wine.

"Booth, are you alright?" Bones asks worriedly.

"I could perform the Heimlich maneuver," Zack volunteers.

Getting his breath back, Booth tells Bones, "I'm fine. That sip went down the wrong way, that's all."

Bones looks confused (he can almost hear her ask "How can a sip go in the incorrect direction, Booth?"), but she accepts his explanation.

"You should be more careful, Booth," she scolds him, before turning to Zack. "Although your supposition has merit, it is incorrect. While Booth and I are indeed engaging in a social ritual, we are not engaging in that particular form of it."

"Bones…?" he reminds her.

"Oh. Certainly," she says, putting her napkin on the table and following him to the dance floor.

"This was a good idea, Booth," she says, smiling as they dance.

"Well, I may not be a genius or a best-selling author, but I've been known to have some good ones," he replies, feeling a tad smug.

This time, _he's_ the one spinning her around the room, eliciting that wonderful smile of hers; not Sully, not some random stranger, but _him_. And damn if it isn't a good feeling.

Tomorrow, Bones may decide that they're getting too close, decide to run away again. But that's tomorrow.

And tonight, Seeley Booth is just going to enjoy the feeling of having Temperance Brennan in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I still don't own Bones; life is cruel that way. ;-)  
_

_A/N: To those of you whom I can't reply to personally, thank you for reviewing! I really appreciate your taking the time to leave feedback.  
_

* * *

******VII. **Booth's Apartment (3x06)

The seventh time they dance together, they're both a little tipsy. Not out-of-their-heads hammered or anything, but definitely drunk enough that everything seems a lot funnier than it normally would.

"So then," Booth says hooting with laughter, "he says, 'Do you want some fries with that?'"

Bones laughs, and it's one of those silly giggly laughs of hers that he loves so much. They're his second favorite type of Bones Laughs.

"That makes no sense!" she says, gesturing wildly with the hand holding her beer bottle.

"Then why are you laughing, huh?" Booth asks, grinning idiotically.

"I don't know," Bones says, continuing to giggle.

Gently punching her on the shoulder, Booth leans closer and says, "I know why. _You_ think it's funny. That's right! Doctor Temperance Brennan thinks my stories are funny."

"You are very amusing at times," she concedes, a smile still bright on her face. "Where is the coaster, Booth? I need to have a coaster to put this down on. You should have a coaster, too. The moisture from these bottles is detrimental to a finished wood table."

"Dunno," Booth says. "Just stick it on the floor."

She shakes her head pityingly at him and says, "If I put this bottle on the floor, it will get knocked over. Then you will have to clean your carpet. I don't like cleaning my carpet."

"Neither do I," Booth says.

"I usually hire someone to do it for me," she admits, before adding, "There are better uses for my time than attempting to remove stains from a floor. I am very much in demand in other capacities, after all."

"Geez, way to be humble, Bones."

"It's the truth," Bones protests.

The song on the radio has just changed, and Booth instantly recognizes its opening chords.

"Hey, it's our song!" he tells her eagerly, cranking it up.

Bones blinks.

"The last time we listened to this song together, you got blown up," she states quietly.

"But I was fine," Booth reminds her, patting her hand. "I'm indestructible."

"It is irrational," Bones continues, "but this song reminds me that I got you injured."

Booth frowns and turns off the radio. "Hey, it wasn't your fault, OK?" he says.

"Logically, I am cognizant of the fact that I was not the one to plant the bomb. Nonetheless, you would not have been blown up had it not been for me."

The childish glee that was on her face just a few minutes ago is gone now, replaced by a fragile vulnerability.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeats firmly. "Besides, given the choice between you being in that hospital bed and me? I'd do the same thing again in a heartbeat."

She glares at him. "I don't want you to take stupid risks for my sake, Booth."

"It's my job, Bones," he says. "You can't stop me from trying to protect you."

"I can try," she mutters stubbornly. After a few seconds, she sighs. "It was not my intention to fight with you just now."

"I get it," Booth tells her. "Really. But you can't stop listening to Foreigner just because some jerk put a bomb in your refrigerator. I mean, it's _Hot-Blooded_."

He emphasizes the song's name as though that should mean something.

As though half-against her will, Bones' lips quirk up in a smile.

"You're right," she says.

"I am?" he asks, surprised that she's given in so easily. "I mean, yeah, I am."

"I shouldn't let an event from the past have such an irrational hold over me."

She goes over to the radio and switches it back on. After a second of thought, she turns the volume up even louder.

"Dance with me?" she asks, a determined look on her face.

_Hell yeah._

And soon they're rocking out in an apartment again. She's playing air guitar, and he's doing the imaginary drums, and they're having a blast.

Then there's a strange crunching sound.

"Shit!"

Bones laughs.


End file.
